ure I will," agreed Ruth. Her attitude toward the movies was
also changing.

Together father and daughters went. It did Alice good to see how Mr.
DeVere was welcomed by his fellow actors. He had already made himself
friendly with most of them.

As Alice and Ruth came into the big studio, where a battery of
cameras were clicking away, the two girls became aware of the looks
cast at them by those not actually engaged in some scene. And, while
most of the looks were friendly, those from two of the players were
not.

Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon, standing together at one side of a
section of a log cabin, whispered to each other.

"Ah, Mr. DeVere!" called Mr. Pertell. "Glad you're here; we were
waiting for you."

"I hope I'm not late!" replied the actor, huskily, with a proper
regard for not delaying a rehearsal.

"Oh, no. You're ahead of time if anything, and I'm glad of it. We'll
have to set the smuggling play aside for a time. One of my men isn't
here, and I can slip in your scenes now, and be that much ahead. So
if you'll get ready we'll go on with 'A Turn of the Card.'"

"Yes, Mr. Pertell--certainly. Let me present you to my daughters. I
believe you have met one."

"Yes--Miss Alice. I am glad to know the other one," and he bowed to
Ruth. Then he hurried away. Mr. Pertell always seemed to be in a
hurry.

Mr. DeVere went to his dressing room to don the costume of the
character he was to represent--a wealthy banker--and Ruth and Alice
gazed with interest at the various scenes going on about them.

While there were many persons connected with the Comet Film Company,
there were certain principals who did most of the work. Among them,
excepting Mr. DeVere, was Wellington Bunn, an old-time actor, who had
long aspired to Hamlet, but who had given it up for the more certain
income of the movies. Then there was Mrs. Margaret Maguire (on the
bills as Cora Ashleigh) who did "old women" parts, and did them
exceedingly well. She had two grandchildren, Tommy and Nellie, who
were often cast for juvenile roles.

Carl Switzer was a joy to know. A German, with an accent that was
"t'icker dan cheese," to use his own expression, he was a fund of
happy philosophy under the most adverse circumstances. And on his
round face was always a smile. He did the "comic relief," when it was
needed, which was often.

Exactly opposite him in character was Pepper Sneed, the "grouch" of
the company. Nothing ever went the way Pepper wante